


The Heart Engine

by nhixxie



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: M/M, do i know anything about formula 1 racing, do i like the image of magnus and alec in those racing suits, no, y e s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 05:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21131729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhixxie/pseuds/nhixxie
Summary: What happens on the track, stays on the track. Or at least that's what two of the world's leading Formula 1 racers try to tell themselves. For Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood, it doesn't work.





	The Heart Engine

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [sh_ficletinstruments](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/sh_ficletinstruments) collection. 

> **Prompt:**
> 
> That new player on the opposing team is _cute_.
> 
> The only sport I know is Hockey, and I wouldn't want to unconsciously try to measure up to In the Sin Bin that way, lmaoo. So, Formula 1 racing it is!

  


Magnus Bane is nursing a cocktail at the bar of New York City’s Ritz-Carlton when he hears the slight squeal of a bar stool scratching the floor. He sighs, taking a sip from his drink and steeling himself. He doesn’t need to look anywhere else to know that Alexander Lightwood has deposited himself on the seat beside him.

Truly ironic how in the vastness of the entire Manhattan—nay, the state of fucking New York, Magnus happens to be in the same bar of the same hotel as the person who has been trying to outrace him in every grand prix he’s participated in. He’s also done some other stuff worthy of ire, but Magnus tries to forget it. 

“Lovely to run into you, Lightwood.” Magnus forces himself to say, mouth pressed in a tight line of a smile as he raises his martini glass in gesture, “It’s as if the fates have decided to drop us both in this little, specific part of the world. How convenient.”

Alec orders a what’s on tap, and gives the bartender a quick thanks when he’s presented with a tall glass of Brouwerij. He takes a sip, licking the foam on his upper lip, before finally answering. “Convenient wouldn’t be the word for it.”

Magnus doesn’t need to think too deeply to know that Raphael probably gave Alec the details he needed. Traitor teammate. “What do you want from me when you so clearly drew the line back in Singapore?”

Alec breathes, and it passes through pretty lips. His eyes blink down onto the bubbles rising from his glass, and he tries for some courage. “I was wrong.”

Magnus snickers, tossing back another sip of his drink. “Are you now. How’d you come to that conclusion? Was it when you dragged me out of a team debrief? Or was it when you kissed me and then ran away like you’ve committed the biggest mistake of your life?”

“It wasn’t a mistake.” Alec murmurs, and he finally raises those eyes to Magnus’, the same ones that glared at him from his side of the track before snapping his helmet lid close and revving his engine childishly when they first met. It’s the same eyes that sized him up from head to toe during the opening ceremony of the Pirelli Grand Prix a few months ago. First eyes Magnus saw when he gathers his bearings and wafts away the smoke of his crushed car—first eyes, first hands, first voice. _Magnus. Are you okay?_

“I ran because I was scared of what you wanted.” Alec says, fingers playing at the condensation of his glass, “Or what you didn’t want. I didn’t want to hear you say no.”

Magnus softens. “Maybe if you stayed, you could’ve heard what you wanted to hear.”

“Any way I can make it up?” Alec says, smiling slightly.

Magnus allows himself a smirk. “Beat me in Morocco. And maybe I’ll consider it.”

Alec grins, eyes gleaming.

“Consider it done.”


End file.
